


The Young Ones

by notfreyja, Straight_Outta_Hobbiton



Series: Doubt The Stars [11]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Implied Sexual Content, Jim collects friends, M/M, Roommates, Starfleet Academy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-15 07:57:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8048470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notfreyja/pseuds/notfreyja, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton/pseuds/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton
Summary: Jim's finally starting to feel like he has his life together. Bones is getting sober, the Spock Thing is beginning to settle, and Gaila is living in the same building as him. Not to mention how awesome the people are in San Francisco.Yeah, things are going great. Now all he needs to do is prevent his husband and best friend from starting World War IV in the kitchen.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, folks. The single fic which spawned the entire 'verse. We hope you enjoy reading it as much as we loved writing it.
> 
> (And to those of you just jumping in now, you will be beyond confused if you don't start from the beginning of the series.)
> 
> The playlist for this fic can be found [here.](https://8tracks.com/starhobbit/the-young-ones#smart_id=dj:16203706&play=1)
> 
> Follow [not-freyja](https://not-freyja.tumblr.com) and [straight-outta-hobbiton](https://straight-outta-hobbiton.tumblr.com) on Tumblr.

“So what, you two’re just… okay now?”

 

“I— we’re trying it again, okay? Without bullshit.”

 

Bones snorts.

 

“Marriage is full of bullshit, kid, believe me.”

 

“I’m not married to a crazy person, Bones.”

 

“No, you’re married to a Vulcan. That’s worse.”

 

“Vulcans cannot lie.”

 

“Yeah, maybe, but from  _ my _ experience they lead to nervous breakdowns culminatin’ in anonymous sex and shots for Romulan crotch rot, so—”

 

“Jesus Christ, Bones, say that a little louder, why don’t you?”

 

“What, you haven’t told him? Isn’t the whole lack of communication the reason he fucked you up so bad the first time?”

 

“We’re going slow, okay? He missed a lot.”

 

“Damn right he missed a lot. He caused a lot, too.”

 

“Bones!” It’s Jim’s tone that makes him go quiet, that and the wild, strange look in his eye. “Bones, this isn’t like Joss. It never  _ was  _ like Joss, it never will be. I’m not trapping myself, I promise.”

 

“... It’s a bad idea.”

 

“Most of my ideas are,” Jim agrees. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t the right one.”

 

“There ain’t no such thing as a right idea, with what you’re doing.”

 

“Sure there is, and I’m following through. So be nice to him. Please?”

 

Leonard huffs a defeated sigh, fiddling with his coffee mug.

 

“Just ‘cause I’m roomin’ with you two doesn’t mean I’m joinin’ Starfleet,” he says. “I draw the line there.”

 

“You know your accent’s gotten thicker?”

 

Bones snorts.

 

“It pisses off your hobgoblin,” he says. “Let me have my fun.”

 

Jim rolls his eyes.

 

“This is gonna go  _ great _ .”

  
  


*.*

  
  


Gaila:

So I start my first semester at the academy this September.

 

Jim:

That’s great!

 

Spock:

T’Pring informed me of your decision to apply. Have you decided on your focus of study?

 

Gaila:

Engineering track, like Mommy.

I might take a secondary track in diplomacy, too, but that depends on whether or not I can handle the course load.

 

Jim:

You’ll be fine.

 

Gaila:

Of course I will.

I just don’t know what level of fine I’ll be at.

 

Spock:

Do you yet know your living situation?

 

Gaila:

Dorms, probably.

 

Spock:

Unnecessary. There are rooms available in my home. You may stay with us.

 

Gaila:

Aw, Spock, I knew you loved me!

 

Jim:

We’ll be together again!

PARTY!

 

Spock:

I believe I will regret this decision. However, I believe it will also annoy the doctor.

So it is not the worst choice I have made.

 

Gaila:

That’s the spirit, Spock.

 

Jim:

I’m telling Bones.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Bones is used to Jim’s insanity. He is. If Jim wasn’t actively working, flirting, or drinking, he was doing something that could get him killed.

 

That’s just the way it is.

 

Except it _ isn’t. _ Not anymore, at least. From the moment Spock decided he liked Jim again, all of that behavior stopped. Leonard doesn’t know what to do with this new, calmer Jim— he’s been dealing with idiot, dying of an STD and/or alcohol poisoning every other day Jim for a while, now. It just makes him anxious, because the other shoe is bound to drop, whether it’s in a year or in ten.

 

(He thinks it’ll be sooner rather than later, but Jim seems happy, so Bones keeps that thought to himself.)

 

Spock seems to be aware of Leonard’s distaste for him, which makes life easier and harder. They avoid each other quite efficiently when Jim’s not around, and when Jim is around, Leonard mostly keeps quiet, lest he say something that might be...  _ misconstrued _ as rude or ungentlemanly.

 

It’s a mutual agreement to not go out of their way to speak to each other. A mutual, unspoken agreement.

 

So imagine his surprise when Leonard, on a normal Monday morning, pads into the kitchen to find Spock already seated at the table, calmly reading something on his PADD.

 

“What’re you doin’ here?” he asks, too fuzzy from sleep to recognize initiating conversation as the Bad Idea that it is.

 

“My regular lab was cancelled due to a professor coming down with a sudden case of the flu,” Spock says without looking up. “Have you only just awoken?”

 

“What do you think, Spock?” Leonard shakes his head when Spock opens his mouth to answer. “Never mind. Where’s Jim?”

 

“At the campus library. He will be back for lunch.”

 

And that’s another thing— Bones fucking  _ hates _ vegetarian.

 

Grumbling quietly to himself, he helps himself to some coffee. It’s old, and maybe a little too close to lukewarm, but it’s caffeinated, so he doesn’t care.

 

“Are you well, Doctor?” Spock inquires.

 

“Don’t talk to me, Spock. It’s too early to pretend to be nice.” He collapses into the seat opposite the Vulcan, curling around the mug like it’s the only thing keeping his eyes open. It probably is.

 

“I apologize, Doctor, but I must admit I do not understand your animosity towards me.”

 

“You don’t need to, Spock. Just so long as you know it’s there.”

 

“I would prefer an explanation.”

 

Bones sighs.

 

“Jim asked me to play nice.”

 

“Jim is not here.”

 

“Fair point.” He knocks back his coffee, disappointed he can’t add whisky for flavor. “Spock, I don’t like you.”

 

“I am aware.”

 

“I  _ really _ don’t like you.”

 

“And I would like to know why.”

 

“Simple. I don’t trust you.”

 

“There is no logical reason that should be the case. I have never slighted you.”

 

“Technically, no. But you  _ slighted _ someone close to me.” Bones straightens. “Your antics nearly cost me my best friend. Do you realize that?”

 

“If you are referring to my disagreement with Jim—”

 

“ _ Disagreement? _ That’s what you call it?” Leonard’s coffee cup sloshes from the force of him putting it down. “He didn’t get out of bed for a week after you shut him out. He thought the bond was broken! You— you took my best friend’s virginity, then walked out the door. Can you even  _ comprehend _ the damage you did? Emotionally?”

 

“I am aware my actions were rash—”

 

“You know what it’s like, when someone you poured your heart and soul into walks away? You feel like no one will ever love you. No one ever could. Now me, I can take that. A few drinks and all that shit washes away. But Jim?” Leonard scoffs. “Jim’s not like me. He’s a big softie, for all his bravado. He fucking lost it. You think I have a drinking problem? You should have seen him.

 

“The booze, and the sex. He wouldn’t sleep. Couldn’t. He wouldn’t talk about it, but I swear, he was dreaming of Tarsus. It was you that saved him, right? You were the one that ended up getting him off that planet?”

 

Spock stares, mouth pinched tight.

 

“Now, think about this. This kid, this kid that survived Tarsus, is having nightmares. He’s having nightmares, and the only reason he survived has just cut him off. Do you think those dreams have happy endings? I don’t.

 

“So, I don’t like you, Spock. I fucking _ hate _ you. You almost destroyed him. Happy now?”

 

If Spock were Human, he might gulp. He might take a moment to think about what to say next, to compose himself well enough so that his voice doesn’t crack.

 

But he’s not Human.

 

“You of course recognize, Doctor, that we must remain civil,” he says. “For Jim’s sake.”

 

Bones snorts, fingering the edge of his mug.

 

“ _ Civil _ , right. Of course,” he says. “This is about as civil as it’s going to get.”

 

“Then we shall keep it out of sight,” Spock says sharply. “Agreed?”

  
“... Fine.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, new chapter! Also, if anyone's interested in Number One's POV of Jim's stay on the Farragut, we have a fic by the name of Serenity, which is part of The Unofficial Handbook series!

Gaila _ loves _ Jim’s phases. He’ll spend a few months on one subject, master it, and then move onto the next. He’s done this with most sciences, genres of literature, genres of film, medicine, fashion, a smattering of languages… he’s done a lot.

 

That being said, she never expected… rocks.

 

Fucking  _ rocks _ .

 

Jim’s room (which he doesn’t sleep in anymore) has become an ode to Terran geologists everywhere. He’s got everything— Gaila can’t name any of them, obviously, but she doesn’t give a shit about rocks. Apparently, Jim does. A lot.

 

She’s been in school three months, at this point. Sometime between her moving in and now, Jim and Spock have gotten over their… their whole thing. She can tell Leonard isn’t pleased, but he’s kind enough to keep his thoughts to himself, for the most part. She understands his feelings— Jim is easy to fall in love with, and he doesn’t know Spock very well, particularly since Spock does his best impression of a proper Vulcan whenever the Doctor’s in the room. It’s funny, but not particularly productive on the ‘making friends’ front.

 

Well, whatever. They’ll get over it eventually, she’s sure of it. Leonard’s a softie at heart, and all he wants is for Jim to be happy and safe. With Spock, he gets at least one of those things.

 

Spock already has the hearts of most of his teachers. As a personal favor to Captain Pike— who happens to be his advisor, the galaxy is such a funny place— and an attempt to alleviate boredom, he takes on the extra tasks of a Teaching Assistant for one of the Applied Quantum Physics classes.

 

Specifically, Gaila’s class.

 

_ Awesome _ .

 

She sits next to a girl from the Communications track, a beautiful girl with long hair pulled back into a severe ponytail and a smile like a sun. Gaila has always preferred males, but she thinks she might try her hand at a girl as beautiful as this.

 

Her name is Uhura, and she hums to herself when she works.

 

The actual class is essentially a lecture, and by the second month of school Spock is teaching more than the actual professor, mostly because he’s an asshole and spent most of the first month in his new position  _ correcting _ the poor woman. Gaila has entertained the thought of explaining why, exactly, he shouldn’t do that, but she already knows his argument for his assholery, and besides, he’d only use it as an excuse to watch silly Humans make fools of themselves.

 

She’s not giving him any more ammunition than he already has.

 

Uhura is fast becoming a friend to Gaila, which is weird, because besides her cousins, Gaila’s never had a woman friend before. Still, it’s fun to have someone besides Jim to accompany her to nail salons and talk shop— despite Uhura’s interest in languages, she’s got a working understanding of basic ship operations, and a fascination with the technology she’s likely going to be glued to for the rest of her career. Gaila tells her about the secret passages in the walls and the hollow in the communications console. Uhura tells her about Kenya and the similarities between Orion and Swahili. They swap comm numbers and message each other photos of cute boys and messy pieces of code.

 

It’s good.

  
  


*.*

  
  


The thing with Jim is that he has no common sense. Well, he does, but then he gets excited and forgets and does things, like barging into the middle of Gaila’s AQP lecture.

 

“Gaila! Gaila, look!”

 

She ignores the muttering about civilians and thanks her lucky stars she took the initiative and sat at the end of the row today.

 

Spock, bless his heart, ignores him, continuing his lecture like there isn’t a crazy blond man booking it through his lecture hall.

 

“What is it, Jim?” she stage whispers, scooting over so Jim can take half of her seat.

 

“Look at this!” he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out— a rock.

 

“Very pretty,” Gaila says as he presses it into her hand.

 

“Watermelon Tourmaline,” Jim says. “It reminded me of you.”

 

Gaila blinks. The rock itself is multi-colored, red and green with black-brown veins snaking through the otherwise see-through stone.

 

“I can see the resemblance,” she remarks. “Very nice, Jim.”

 

“I want you to have it, I’ve got like, six of them—”

 

“Jim.  _ Jim _ . Jim, honey, do you know where I am right now?”

 

“Uh, class?”

 

“Yeah. A class. See Spock up there?”

 

Jim looks up. He waves at his back.

 

Spock waves back, not looking away from the board.

 

“Spock’s great,” he says brightly. “Isn’t he?”

 

“He’s fantastic,” Gaila agrees. Her brother is actually a puppy. She should tell Spock to get him a collar sometime and— oh, that’s a fun thought. “But Jim, do you remember our talk about being disruptive?”

 

“Am I being disruptive?”

 

“Some people might think so.”

 

“Oh. Shit. Sorry, everybody. Sorry, Uhura— you’re Uhura, right? Gaila was right, you’re drop dead gorgeous. Well, nice meeting you.” He gets up, taking the steps three at a time until he gets to the door.

 

“Bye, Spock!”

 

“Goodbye, James.”

 

Jim grins and disappears into the hall.

 

Gaila glances at Uhura. She’s holding it together pretty well, actually. Besides the odd look on her face, she’s pretty composed, like the last five minutes haven’t been filled with  _ Actual Labrador _ James T. Kirk. She doesn’t even try to ask— now that takes discipline.

 

Class ends about fifteen minutes later, with a promise of a quiz sometime in the next week. Gaila knows it’ll be on a Thursday, because Spock always puts his quizzes on Thursdays, and makes a mental note to maybe get Jim to take a look at her notes sometime this weekend.

 

“So… the TA’s cute,” Uhura remarks casually. “Think he’s single?”

 

“No. He’s married.”

 

Uhura blinks.

 

“Seriously? He’s like, twenty-five.”

 

“Seriously.”

 

“Who’s he married to? I haven’t seen any other Vulcans on campus.”

 

“He’s not married to a Vulcan.”

 

“... Really?”

 

“Really.”

 

“That’s weird. Mr. Spock doesn’t strike me as the type.”

 

“He’s not. Jim’s a special case.”

 

Uhura goes still.

 

“You mean… the blond guy?”

 

Gaila grins.

 

“Yeah, that’s my brother.”

 

“I… I see the resemblance, I guess?”

 

“Oh, I’m adopted. But yeah, Spock’s my brother-in-law.”

 

“No shit.” Uhura sighs. “Guess that’s a no on asking him out to dinner, huh?”

 

“Not for a date. But if you need any help with your Vulcan, stop by my place. Jim and Spock are always happy to help, though…” Gaila pauses. “How do you feel about doctors? I’ve got a handsome one on hold right now, if you’re interested.”

 

“I… are you trying to set me up?”

 

“I’m trying to get you laid. And Len, too, if possible. He’s gotten grumpier than usual.”

 

“I think I’ll pass.”

 

“Stop by sometime. For all his grump, he is really cute. Might be good for a one-off.”

 

Uhura doesn’t answer that one, but whatever, Gaila tried.

  
She’s such a good friend.


	3. Chapter 3

“So there’s this guy I’m talking to— Scotty— who’s got these  _ crazy _ ideas about transwarp beaming. He’s trying to get signed off for live testing, but so far he’s had no luck—” Jim stops. “I’m sorry. You’re not really into warp core stuff, are you?”

 

Uhura shakes her head, smiling slightly.

 

“Not really,” she says. “But anything is interesting if the person talking about it is passionate about the subject matter. Are you planning on going into Engineering?”

 

“No. I mean, I already have. Sorta.”

 

“Jim finished the Engineering track before he hit double digits,” Gaila explains, sipping her coffee. “Then worked his way through most Sciences, then did a few language courses, then went on to medical school to stalk Len.”

 

“I wasn’t _ stalking _ Bones,” he retorts, pouting. “I was going to go into medicine anyway— I just figured it’d be more fun if I actually knew somebody there. I mean, it wasn’t like the other stuff. I actually had to stay grounded to do a residency.”

 

“You can’t be serious,” Uhura says flatly. “You’re joking.”

 

“He’s not,” Leonard grumbles. “The kid’s a goddamn genius.”

 

“Aw, thanks, Bones.”

 

The Doctor rolls his eyes.

 

“The only thing left is the only thing he actually wants to go for,” Bones continues. “Command.”

 

“I want a captaincy,” Jim says. “I want the Enterprise.”

 

“That’s slated to go to Captain Pike.”

 

“Jim’s gonna make him hand it over,” Gaila says, grinning. “He likes to mess with my Daddy.”

 

“Your—” Uhura stops, shaking her head. “You know what? You guys are crazy.”

 

“‘Course we are,” Jim says. “I spent most of my life in space, Gaila spent a year with me on the Farragut and then a year on Vulcan with me and Spock. Spock’s been bonded to me since forever—”

 

Leonard tries to hide a grimace. Uhura sees it anyway.

 

“And Bones has been strong-armed into the family like the grumpy older brother he is.”

 

“We are an eclectic group of people,” Spock says from behind her. “Jim, I believe you have an engagement this evening. You will be late if you do not hurry.”

 

“Oh, right— shit, it’s already seven?” Jim pushes himself to his feet. “Oh, hell—”

 

He stumbles up the stairs, tripping over his own feet in his effort.

 

“It is strange,” Spock remarks. “He is graceful in nearly every other aspect, but the moment there is any sort of emotional stress, he loses all coordination.”

 

“He’s excitable,” Bones says. “Nothing a Vulcan would understand.”

 

“Indeed not, Doctor,” Spock agrees. “I, like most of my race, know the value of emotional control— something a man as erratic as yourself could not understand.”

 

“Why you green-blooded—”

 

“We’ll leave them to it,” Gaila whispers to Uhura. “Come on— I haven’t shown you my room yet.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


Leonard has trouble sleeping, most nights. So it isn’t unusual that he’s awake when Jim gets home that night, or any other night.

 

(He thinks it might be a leftover from Jim’s wilder nights, this need to keep awake. He never says so, though.)

 

It’s the motorcycle that trips him up. Jim doesn’t ride a motorcycle— Bones called them death traps, and Spock, for once, agreed with him. Santa wouldn’t bring Jim a motorcycle, no matter how many letters he sends.

 

So the fact that there’s the sound of a motorcycle outside the house means one of two things: one, Jim made a new friend, or two, Jim has somehow acquired a motorcycle.

 

Leonard really hopes it’s the first one when he opens the door.

 

Jim is… trashed. That would normally be alright, except for the fact that he’s the one driving the goddamn motorcycle. Not only that, but there’s a stranger at his back, arms wrapped around his stomach and wearing— is that a flowerpot?— on his head instead of a helmet.

 

Jim does have a helmet. He didn’t bother doing the strap under his chin.

 

“Bones!” he says brightly, staggering off the bike. “Bones, Bones, guess what?”

 

“You drove drunk.”

 

“Yeah, but that’s not important—”

 

“That’s plenty important, Jim—”

 

“I won a bike!”

 

The Doctor stops short.

 

“What do you mean, you won a bike?”

 

“From Sulu!” Jim gestures at the man with the pot on his head. “That’s Hikaru Sulu— he’s my new friend. I won his bike in a poker game.”

 

“... Okay.”

 

“And then he was really drunk, so I offered to give him a ride home,” Jim continues. “But his dorms are really far away, so I figured he could stay over.”

 

“Jim, you’re drunk, too.”

 

“Less drunk, though.”

 

“Still drunk.”

 

“... Are you mad at me?”

 

“Livid,” Bones informs him. “But not nearly as pissed as Spock’s gonna be when I tell him in the morning.”

 

Jim’s eyes go wide.

 

“Aw, Bones, don’t do that!” he pleads. “Not in front of my new friend!”

 

“I couldn’t give a damn about your pride— do you realize how irresponsible, how stupid—”

 

Sulu slips by him carefully, tugging Jim by the arm into the house.

 

“Hey, ‘scuse me, buddy, but I’m having a conversation with my friend, here—”

 

Too late. Jim’s escaped into the living room, led by his potted plant friend.

 

Bones sighs, rubbing at his temples tiredly. He doesn’t get paid for this shit, but he really thinks he should be, sometimes.

 

He locks the door and turns off the porch light before heading inside. Jim and his friend have collapsed on the couch, Jim sitting with the helmet in his lap and his head tilted back and Sulu still with that Goddamned flower pot on his head.

 

Bones throws up his hands.

 

“Okay, what’s with the fucking pot.”

 

Jim shrugs.

 

“We couldn’t find another helmet.”

 

Oh. Okay. That makes perfect fucking sense.

 

“You gonna go upstairs, Jim?” he asks. “Let your friend get comfortable?”

 

Jim lolls his head to look at Sulu.

 

“You need a bed?”

 

Sulu stares at him. Jim stares back.

 

“... We’re good here,” Jim says.

 

Bones opens his mouth to argue, then closes it, shaking his head.

 

Spock can deal with this mess in the morning. He’s grabbing a glass of water and going to bed.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Spock enters the living room at approximately seven-seventeen in the morning, six minutes earlier than usual. This is because Jim did not make it back to their room last night, which doesn’t worry Spock so much as disappoint him. Jim only sleeps downstairs when he believes himself too intoxicated to be good company.

 

Usually he is correct.

 

Jim isn’t alone on the couch this particular morning, which is strange. Beside him is a man, tapping idly at his PADD while Jim drools into his shoulder of his shirt.

 

Spock stares a moment.

 

“Good morning,” he greets.

 

No response.

 

“Might I ask who you are?”

 

No response. The man stares blankly out from under the rim of a flowerpot. Spock stares back.

 

“Whoa, shit!”

 

Jim startles awake quite often, particularly after a late night out. This particular morning is no different, even if he does manage to smack his shoulder on the coffee table as he flails to the ground.

 

“Good morning, Jim.”

 

“Hey, Spock. Have you met Sulu? This is Sulu. Sulu, this is Spock, my bondmate. What time is it?”

 

“Seven-twenty-two.”

 

“Shit, I’m gonna be late. Sulu, you can sleep a little longer if you want. No one else will be up and moving until at  _ least _ nine. And my sister will make you coffee if you give her the sad eyes.”

 

Sulu looks at Jim, nods, then leans back and closes his eyes.

 

“He’s my new friend,” Jim informs Spock, shucking off his jacket and stripping off a shirt that reads ‘This One Time, At Band Camp…’ in shiny gold letters. It might be a women’s shirt. “I’ve decided, especially since he’s going to be a pilot. I’m going to need one of those.”

 

Spock suppresses a sigh. Jim often makes little sense before noon.

 

“Very well,” he says. “What are your plans for today?”

 

“Breakfast with Scotty, then I’m going to help Number One grade Pike’s Command Ethics papers, then lunch with Pike and Number One, then Gaila and I are doing an Anne Rice movie binge with Uhura, then family dinner, if you can make it.”

 

“I will be home by six.”

 

“Perfect!” Jim presses a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”

 

“Yes, James.”

 

Jim makes his way up the stairs. Spock waits until the bathroom door is closed.

 

“That motorcycle is yours, is it not?” he asks.

 

Sulu stares.

 

This time, Spock does sigh.

 

“You are rude, Sulu.”

 

The man shrugs.

 

“Do not allow Jim on that motorcycle again.”

 

Again, no response.

  
This man is more infuriating than Dr. McCoy.


	4. Chapter 4

“Every time I see that little bastard outside of the house, he’s a goddamn loudmouth. But even if I make sure to get home before he does— he’s always in his spot, like the fucking houseplant he is.”

 

“I still do not understand that nickname, but I have recognized a similar pattern in my own interactions with him,” Spock remarks. “He seems quite personable when he is not in the house.”

 

“I swear to God, if he’s in the house when we walk in the door, I’m going to dump that entire goddamn spritzer on his head,” Bones mutters. “I think he just sneaks in the back door when he knows we’re coming.”

 

“I believe you may be correct in that matter. Care to test your theory?”

 

Bones stops.

 

“How so?”

 

“Simple. I shall enter, as usual, through the front door. You will enter through the back.” Spock arches an eyebrow. “If your theory is correct, you will catch him as he enters.”

 

The Doctor’s mouth quirks up into a devious smile, not unlike an expression Spock has seen on Jim’s face.

 

“I like the way you think,” he says. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

 

Spock nods and watches as the Doctor disappears around the side of the house. He waits thirty seconds, then opens the door.

 

Jim appears before he can step inside.

 

“Hey Spock, I think we should get married.”

 

Spock has never experienced such a malfunction within his own mind… ever. He stares blankly at Jim, mouth slightly slack.

 

“I— James, you realize we are already married.”

 

Jim grins.

 

“I know, but like— Human married. With a ceremony and a party and stuff.” He tilts his head. “Your Mom would love it.”

 

“I—”

 

“Plus, like, Starfleet accepts bondmates and stuff, but the only definite way we’ll be able to serve on the same ship is if we have paperwork, and… when I become captain, I want you to be my First Officer.”

 

“... This is certainly logical,” Spock says after a moment. “However—”

 

A furious screech interrupts him, coming from the kitchen.

 

“How the fuck do you  _ do _ this?” Bones has a water spritzer in his hand, the one Gaila had bought him as a joke when he dubbed Sulu a houseplant. “How the  _ fuck _ did you get here before us?”

 

He punctuates each syllable with a squeeze of the trigger, spraying Sulu in the face with what is— hopefully— water.

 

Sulu is unfazed, eyes closed against the spray.

 

Spock sighs and looks back to Jim.

 

“I agree with you,” he says. “My mother would enjoy such a ceremony. Choose a date, and I shall have paperwork drawn up.”

 

“God— wait, what?” Bones looks up from his punishment, eyes wide. “What paperwork?”

 

Jim presses a kiss to Spock’s cheek.

 

“We’re getting married!” he says brightly. “The Human way!”

 

“I— oh, shit.” Leonard leans against the counter. He’s always been a dramatic sort. “Oh, shit.”

 

“Don’t look so sad, Bones, this is a good thing!” Something devious crosses Jim’s expression. “Hey, could I borrow your pinky ring really quick?”

 

“What for?”

 

“Just for a second!”

 

Eyeing him suspiciously, Leonard works the ring off his finger. He hesitates for a moment before dropping it into Jim’s open palm.

 

Immediately, Jim drops to his knees.

 

“Spock, will you marry me?” he asks, eyes sparkling with sincerity and good humor.

 

Spock knows this part of the movie. He’s seen it a dozen times, in black and white and color and HD and 3D.

 

He puts out a hand.

 

“Of course, James.”

 

Leonard’s ring is almost too large for Spock’s ring finger, but Spock can’t imagine he’ll be keeping it. Jim is a romantic, and this is simply a gesture.

 

Though… it  _ is _ a pretty ring.

 

Jim gets back to his feet and kisses him properly.

 

“This is gonna be awesome,” he says. “You know that conversation we had a few weeks about ‘oral is moral’?”

 

Spock flushes. Leonard gags.

 

“... Yes.”

 

“Consider that rule done,” Jim says, slapping him playfully in the chest. “You’re getting some proper, tonight.”

 

Abort. Abort. Take it back. Spock has just promised to legally shackle himself to this escaped asylum patient of a Human for the rest of his life. This is going to be the rest of his life, complete with a pale Leonard in the corner looking a cross between apoplectic and on the verge of vomiting.

 

“I need to change,” he says. “Join me upstairs?”

 

Jim’s eyes shine and— oh, that’s not what Spock meant at all. He just didn’t want Jim to keep talking in front of other people, but—

 

“Sure, Spock. Bones, Sulu— we won’t be down for dinner.”

 

Spock lets himself be pushed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. This… is an unexpected development, though not unpleasant.

  
  


*.*

  
  


The kitchen is silent for a long moment after… that. 

 

“ _ Holy shit _ ,” Sulu whispers.

 

“... Yeah.” Bones stops. “ _ I fucking knew it! _ ”

 

Sulu blinks.

 

“You didn’t actually think I couldn’t talk, did you?” he asks, head tilting to one side.

 

“I— no, obviously not. But you won’t talk in front of anyone!”

 

“I talk in front of Jim.”

 

“Jim doesn’t count.”

 

Sulu shrugs. The Doctor doesn’t need to know about Gaila and Uhura helping him out with his and Jim’s prank.

 

“He took your ring,” Sulu observes.

 

Leonard grimaces.

 

“He can fucking keep it,” he mutters. “Lord knows where that thing will have been before he thinks to give it back.”

 

Sulu snorts. Good point.

 

There’s a beat of silence.

 

“So… I need a science,” he says. “What do you think I should go for?”

 

Bones arches an eyebrow.

 

“Really? You’re asking?”

 

Sulu shrugs. The Doctor’s an observant guy. He might have picked up on something about Hikaru that could translate into a science that doesn’t completely suck.

 

“... Fuck, I don’t know.  _ Botany _ .”

 

“Botany?”

 

“Hikaru the Houseplant ought to know how to take care of himself.” Leonard jumps as something crashes to the floor above them. “Shit.”

 

“... They’re gonna be loud.”

 

“Sounds like it.”

 

A door opens upstairs.

 

“Hey, Jim, are you getting laid?” Gaila shouts across the hall.

 

“Working on it!” Jim calls back.

 

“Fucking finally!”

 

The door slams shut again.

 

Bones shudders.

 

“I think I’m going to the library,” he says. “Wanna join?”

  
“Oh, God, yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah... Hikaru the House Plant. That was the stupid joke made in the middle of the night that caused us to spin this entire 'verse. Hope you found it at least as fractionally as funny as we did.


	5. Chapter 5

Amanda hears her comm beep in the middle of making dinner. Absently, she glances at the screen. One new message from Jim, with a file attached.

 

Huh.

 

Jim:

I know you’ve been waiting for this.

[HoloFile attached: you.are.cordially.invited.hfile]

 

Amanda opens the file. Reads the invitation— because it’s an invitation, a fancy, formal one— once, then twice, then once more for good measure.

 

“Sarek,” she calls carefully, voice cracking in her effort to stay calm. “Sarek, come here for a moment.”

 

“Yes, Amanda?” he pauses, taking in her flushed face and shaking hands. “Is something wrong?”

 

She shakes her head.

 

“Spock and Jim are getting married,” she says. “They’re having a Terran wedding in December.”

 

Sarek blinks.

 

“You are… excited?”

 

Amanda stays quiet for a moment longer, but he can see the emotion bubbling up her throat. She lets out a shriek of delight and throws her arms around his shoulders.

 

“They did it!” She shouts directly into his ear. “Seventeen years, and they finally have it!”

 

Sarek doesn’t appreciate the screaming, but Amanda’s joy and relief is a pleasant enough mixture to stop him from setting her back down right away.

 

“I will make arrangements for us,” he tells her. “You may send our confirmation that we will attend.”

 

“Father, Lady Amanda, did you see—” Sybok stops in doorway. His face splits into a smile. “Looks like you did. You are attending, right?”

 

Sarek will never understand his son’s adopted habit of adding unnecessary questions to the end of statements. “Of course.”

 

“Excellent. Mind if I hitch a ride with you? This would be an excellent final section for my dissertation.”

 

“I swear to God, sometimes I do not think he’s actually writing anything,” Amanda mutters, pulling away from Sarek. “He’s just saying it so we won’t question why he’s still in school.”

 

Sarek would be inclined to agree, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s seen the inside of Sarek’s work room.

 

He’ll keep that to himself, though.

  
  


*.*

  
  


“Stonn?”

 

“Yes, T’Pring?”

 

“We have been invited to S’chn T’gai Spock and Jim Kirk’s Terran nuptials,” she informs him. “I wish to attend.”

 

“Then you shall, wife.”

 

“You shall, as well. Jim requested your presence, specifically.”

 

Stonn closes his eyes for a moment. He has never understood the Human’s fascination with him— or his Orion sister’s, for that matter.

 

“... Very well.”

 

T’Pring nods to herself and busies herself with tapping out a response.

 

Stonn thinks to have T’Pring request that Jim might reign in his overly-tactile habits for the duration of the wedding. It would be unseemly in such a setting for Jim to behave in such a way. He decides against it.

 

Jim has always done as he liked.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Gaila and Uhura are in the living room when they get their invitations.

 

“Hey, Jim?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I’m going to your wedding.”

 

“Awesome, Uhura. Think you’re gonna have a plus one?”

 

Uhura shrugs.

 

“I’ll get back to you on that.”

 

“I’m coming, too!” Gaila pauses. “Obviously.”

 

“Great. Spock needs a best man.”

 

“I get to be best man?” His sister swells with pride. “That’s so sweet!”

 

“Wait, if you’re the best man, who’s the Maid of Honor?” Uhura asks.

 

“Me,” Bones grumbles from the other couch.

 

“He’s gonna look great in peach,” Jim says, ruffling his hair as he passes. “Hey, Sulu, what about you?”

 

“Ben appreciates having his name on the invite,” Sulu says. “We’ve already confirmed we’re going.”

 

“Perfect.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


“Hey, Sammy?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Guess what?”

 

“What, Aurie?”

 

“Your brother’s getting hitched.”

 

There’s a crash, followed by muffled curses and the sound of a pot being kicked into the wall. Aurie waits patiently for Sam to get himself together.

 

A blond head pokes out of the kitchen.

 

“What did you say?”

 

Aurie offers him the comm.

 

“He’s getting married to a Vulcan,” she says. “Some kid named Spock?”

 

“I knew it,” Sam stares, staring at the file. “I  _ fucking _ knew it.”

 

“Knew what?”

 

“That he was going to do something like this.” He groans softly, running a hand through his hair. “We have to say no, Aurie.”

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“You haven’t been tainted by my family yet. I can’t let you join the never ending circus that is the Kirks— you’ll become one of them.”

 

Aurie rolls her eyes.

 

“Sam, come on. I’m sure they’re not that fucking bad.”

 

“Oh, I’m sure they fucking are.”

 

“We’re going to your brother’s wedding. He’s a sweetheart.”

 

“You only know him through his movie choice! Of course you think he’s sweet!”

 

“And until I’ve met him, that’s what I’ll keep thinking.” Aurie pauses. “Hey, do you think your Mom got an invite?”

 

Sam closes his eyes against the oncoming migraine.

 

“Of course she did,” he says softly. “And so did Number One and Captain Pike, because Jim always needs an audience for the rolling dumpster fire that is his life.”

 

“This is gonna be awesome.” Aurie takes the comm back. “I’m RSVPing yes to the wedding. What do you think your brother and his fiance want as a present?”

 

“Probably some kind of freaky Vulcan bondage rig,” Sam grumbles. “I spilled dinner. We’re getting pizza.”

 

“Oh, that sounds great. Extra cheese?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“And pickles?”

 

“That’s fucking disgusting.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


“Chris?”

 

Chris doesn’t move. He had an athletic night, and it’s eight o’clock on a Saturday. He doesn’t  _ have _ to move.

 

Still, it’s Number One, so he has to at least respond. He won’t make that mistake again.

 

“What?”

 

“Jim and Cadet Spock are marrying.”

 

Chris’ eyes snap open. He sits bolt upright.

 

“Come again?”

 

Number One peers at him coolly.

 

“Jim and Cadet Spock are marrying,” she repeats. “We have been invited to the ceremony and reception following.”

 

“I— wait, they’re— I don’t understand.”

 

“I have mentioned that Jim and Cadet Spock are bonded, have I not?”

 

Well, now that Chris thinks about it, yeah. Winona might have said something, too.

 

“Alright.”

 

“This is their Terran ceremony.”

 

“... Okay?”

 

“Our names are both on a single invitation,” Number One remarks. “Jim has always been observant of interpersonal relationships.”

 

Pike sighs and lays back down, throwing an arm over his eyes.

 

“We’re going, right?”

 

“Of course, Captain,” Number One says. “It would be poor form to miss your daughter’s brother’s wedding.”

 

“You sound like that guy out of Spaceballs.” Which he only watched because Jim made him. God, he can’t escape this kid. It’ll only get harder when he starts Starfleet in the fall.

 

“I believe Jim will appreciate a slow cooker,” Number One remarks. “Don’t you agree, Chris?”

 

Chris lets out a low groan.

 

How is this his life?

  
  


*.*

  
  


Winona studies the invitation, one sooty eyebrow arched as she reads over the address.

 

Winona Kirk and T’shin Syruk.

 

That little shit knew the whole goddamn time.

 

Long fingers slide across a padded shoulder.

 

“Has something happened, Kirk?”

 

She looks up. Syruk is holding a ham sandwich— obviously for her.

 

“Jim’s getting married,” she says. “We’re invited to the wedding.”

 

Syruk arches an eyebrow.

 

“Together?”

 

“Together.”

 

“So he was aware of our arrangement.”

 

“Yep.”

 

“And is not bothered.”

 

“Nope.”

 

“That is… comforting.”

 

Yeah. It surprises Winona how nice it is to know her kid isn’t… weird about it.

  
Whatever ‘it’ is.


	6. Chapter 6

The wedding is the week before Christmas, and they’re both in dress blues. To be fair, so are half of the guests— ten of the eighteen people gathered before the judge are Starfleet, if you include the grooms, and while that isn’t unusual for Judge Th’Thikel, he has yet to see such a…  _ colorful _ wedding.

 

A quick count— five Vulcans, not including the groom. Two (including the groom) are in uniform. One is wearing jeans and a frankly hideous attempt at a dress shirt. Vulcans do not look good in hot pink.

 

There are two blonds, obviously related in some way to the Human groom. The woman— his mother, stands beside the Starfleet issue Vulcan who isn’t getting married, idly chatting with the other (also Human) mother, who stands tall in Vulcan robes beside her own Standard issue Vulcan— an important ambassador, if Th’Thikel remembers correctly. The other blond— likely a brother— is speaking with the Starfleet Captain present, his wife heavily pregnant and looking uncomfortable as the Captain’s First Officer asks increasingly invasive questions about the “process of incubation”.

 

That’s not even mentioning the Orion, who is half-hanging off the remaining Vulcan male while she talks summer vacation with his bondmate. She mentions her brother four times— it takes Th’Thikel a moment to realize she’s referring to one of the grooms.

 

The others (all Humans), thankfully, appear to be quite normal. Sure, he might have seen the Doctor take a look at the engagement ring and take a deep drink from his flask, but the guy with the civilian boyfriend seems pretty sane, if talkative, and the other uniformed Human woman had greeted him in his native Andorian, with barely any accent at all.

 

This may be the strangest wedding Judge Th’Thikel has ever officiated, and technically, he works for Starfleet.

  
  


*.*

  
  


“This round’s on me!”

 

Aurie snickers as Jim (with surprising dexterity) expertly pours out the shots— Jågermeister for the Humans, and some chocolatey concoction for the Vulcans. He’s drunk, his Mom’s drunk, Sam’s drunk, even the Vulcans are drunk. Everybody’s drunk— except her, because she’s pregnant.

 

Well, and Sarek.

 

She and Sarek are sitting a little ways away from the main party, content to watch as Human stupidity peaks and Vulcan stupidity is realized.

 

Aurie is entertained. Sarek looks slightly constipated.

 

“You don’t see a lot of this kind of behavior, do you?” she asks, sympathetic as her husband and Sarek’s wife lock arms to knock back their shots.

 

“You are correct,” he says. “Most social functions I attend require a level of… formality.”

 

“Sam only get like this when he’s nervous,” Aurie says. “Honestly, I think he was surprised to be invited at all. He and Jim were never close, as I understand it.”

 

“Jim prizes family above all else,” Sarek says. “Though I believe he recognizes that Samuel is not like him. His distance, I would think, is a sign of respect.”

 

Aurie hums. “I think that, too.”

 

Sam stumbles trying to get back to his seat. Sybok catches him and pulls him onto his lap before he can hit the ground.

 

“You know, you have nice kids,” she remarks. “Sybok’s a good friend of Sam’s, you know.”

 

“And Samuel is probably Sybok’s closest confidante,” he agrees. “I believe he may be a good influence on my son. He is less volatile, since meeting him.”

 

“I ought to be careful,” Aurie says, smiling mischievously. “It looks like the Kirks have a thing for Vulcans. My husband might decide to run away with your son.”

 

“I do not think so. Sybok often speaks of you, as well. He was pleased to be present at your wedding ceremony.”

 

“We were happy to have him. Sam doesn’t have many friends— consequences of growing up on a spaceship.”

 

“Sybok also does not have many acquaintances. That is his own doing.”

 

“I don’t know. Looks to me like he’s getting cozy with Miss Uhura.”

 

Sarek looks up. His son is leaning unusually close when he speaks with the woman, but then, he does that when speaking with most Humans— except for Winona, of course, but that’s just good sense.

 

Aurie sighs.

 

“I can’t wait to give birth already,” she says, rubbing absently at her belly. “I couldn’t fit into any of my fun dresses for the party.”

 

“And what constitutes a ‘fun’ dress, Aurelian?” Sarek asks.

 

“Winona’s dress is fun,” she says. “Sunflowers look good on her.”

 

It is true. Sarek has never actually seen Mrs. Kirk out of uniform, but the dress suits her waifish form quite well.

 

“Uhura looks good, too,” Aurie adds. “Though I don’t look nearly so good yellow. It makes me look like I have jaundice.”

 

“I imagine mauve would be a pleasing color for you,” he says. “Though your shape is currently compromised, I find most humanoid female forms may be considered acceptably attractive in an A-Line dress.”

 

“... Sleeves or no sleeves, do you think?”

 

“That depends on the weather. You and your husband live on Deneva, correct?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

I have visited the planet on multiple occasions. I have found it to be slightly too cold for a Vulcan, but it is quite mild to Humans.” Sarek pauses. “Perhaps a cardigan overtop would do well. Black, perhaps, or a forest green.”

 

Aurie grins, shaking her head.

 

“I think you might be my favorite Vulcan,” she says. “Don’t tell Sybok?”

 

“I will not.”

 

Yeah. Aurie has a new best friend.

 

“I imagine having a knowledge of fashion is important, if you’re an ambassador,” she notes. “I mean, culturally—”

 

She stops as a sudden wetness soaks through her underwear. No.  _ No _ . She was joking about the whole giving birth thing.

 

“Aurelian? Are you well?”

 

Aurie swallows.

 

“Ambassador Sarek,” she starts carefully. “Could— could you get my husband for me? Please.”

 

Sarek watches her for a moment longer before nodding, gracefully rising to his feet and stepping around the mass of drunks until Sam is within a reasonable speaking distance. 

 

She watches him catch her husband’s shoulder and lean forward. She watches Sam blink, not understanding, than Sybok’s eyes go wide as he peers over Sam’s head to stare at Aurie. She watches Sarek repeat himself, and a look of fear cross Sam’s face.

 

Sam stumbles to his feet, rushing over to where she’s seated.

 

“Aurie? Aurie, what’s wrong? Are you—”

 

“My water broke,” she says. “I think. That or I’ve pissed myself However, it hasn’t stopped, so I’m thinking yeah, my water broke.”

 

“Oh, holy shit. Aurie. Aurie.  _ I’m drunk _ .”

 

“You are,” she agrees.

 

“Shit.  _ Shit _ . Jim!”

 

“What’s up, Sammy?”

 

“Aurie’s water broke!”

 

Everyone goes silent, save for Sybok’s whispered  _ “I fucking knew it” _ .

 

“The Kirk Curse lives on,” Winona remarks, sipping her drink. Aurie has no idea where she got the martini. “Anyone here drunk enough to drive? I mean… you know what I mean.”

 

Sulu starts to stand. Ben pulls him back into his seat by the back of his shirt.

 

“Negative.” Number One’s face is pressed into Chris’ shoulder. “We are all… intoxicated.”

 

“I can drive—” Aurie starts.

 

“Dude, no, you’re the one about to give birth.” Sam runs a hand through his hair, agitated. “Shit, we’re gonna have to call a cab—”

 

“I am able to drive,” Sarek interrupts calmly. “There is no need to call for a taxi.”

 

“I have a van,” Ben offers. “But I took the backsheats— backseats— out for band practice last week.”

 

“That’ll work,” Sam says, snapping his fingers. “Aurie? Will that work?”

 

“That’s fine, but we’ve gotta mo— ow! Shit!” Her hand slides over her stomach. “I think that was a contraction.”

 

“Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Ben, give him the keys. Aurie, you’re gonna be okay, you’re going to be fine—” He tries to help her up. He almost knocks her over.

 

“I will help her to the car,” Sarek says, reaching out to grip her by the elbow. “Just follow.”

 

“Awesome, a field trip!” Jim pushes himself to his feet. “Come on guys, me and Spock’s nephew’s going to be here soon— we’ve gotta make sure we give him a good welcome!”

 

Sarek glances at Aurie, and even though Vulcans aren’t exactly known for their expressions, she knows exactly what he’s thinking.

 

“If we don’t take them, they’ll try and find a way on their own,” she says. “Throw them all in the back, I don’t even— shit!— care right now.”

 

“If you are certain.”

 

“Yeah.” Aurie glances at Sam, who’s still cursing. “Sammy?”

 

“Yeah, Aurie?”

 

“Come on. I’ve got a baby to deliver.”

 

“Like a stork,” Sybok says as he tries to collect himself.

  
She pretends she didn’t hear that.


	7. Chapter 7

“If I never hear ‘Drunken Sailor’ again it’ll be too soon,” Leonard grunts as Sarek wheels Aurie into the delivery room, Sam trailing behind.

 

“It was a favorite of ours in Engineering,” Winona informs him, smirking. “I’m sure you’ll hear it again soon.”

 

“Fuck.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a flask, taking two long swallows.

 

“Hey, do I smell Fireball?” Amanda sticks out her hands. “Gimme.”

 

He does, of course, because Amanda’s pretty cool, actually, and also because Spock looks like he’s going to murder Leonard every time Amanda so much as smiles at him.

 

He looks back at Winona.

 

“What?”

 

“You know, Jim’s really hot,” Leonard tells her bluntly, because he’s drunk and thoughtful and maybe a little too comfortable with this woman who’s exactly like Jim but smarter.

 

“I know, right? My kids come out sexy.”

 

“... Right. Anyway, everybody always says Jim looks like his Dad but… you’re drop dead gorgeous. Some of it must be from you.”

 

Winona arches an eyebrow.

 

“I’m too old for you, Bonesy, though it’s nice to know I’m appreciated.”

 

He snorts.

 

“‘Too old’ my ass. If there weren’t a Vulcan attached to your hip, I’d be asking you to dinner,” he says.

 

“Just dinner?”

 

Leonard rolls his eyes. Yup. Definitely Jim’s Mom.

 

“I’m a gentleman, ma’am. I wine and dine, first.”

 

“One of the old-fashioned sort,” she says sagely. “George was like you— ‘til I got my claws in him, anyway.”

 

“Really, now.”

 

“Yep.” She pops her lips. “What do you mean, ‘Vulcan attached to my hip’?”

 

“You and Mr. Syruk aren’t together?”

 

“Me? And him?” Winona looks surprised. “Oh, no. I mean, not like Jim and Spock, or anything. We just fuck.”

 

Bones blinks, mystified.

 

“Vulcans do that?”

 

“Sure. Why not?”

 

“I don’t— I mean, Jim and Spock.”

 

Winona flaps a hand.

 

“They’re a special case. Most Vulcans don’t get attached like that.”

 

“So then… what’s the deal with you and Syruk?”

 

“Syruk was on the Kelvin with me.” Winona smiles wryly. “He saved my life. And Jim’s, obviously.”

 

His eyes widen.

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Seriously. He’s a good guy. Most Vulcans are, once you prove you’re smarter than they are.” She sighs. “But no. We’re not… bonded, or whatever.”

 

“Oh.” Bones thinks about this. “So I could theoretically ask you to dinner?”

 

“Don’t even try it,” she says. “I’ll have your nuts for earrings. However, I’m always alright with a little flirting, particularly if it’s done in the vicinity of Jim.”

 

“Oh?” He arches an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

 

“He freaks out,” she says simply. “It’s a beautiful thing, to watch a boy like that go full panic mode over a compliment. Has he ever told you about the incident on Quatrus XII?”

 

“ _ No _ , what happened on Quatrus XII?”

 

“Well, this was right before Jim took off for Risa, and we were on a diplomatic mission. The Quatrian Ambassador was getting a little handsy with me, so Jim goes and…”

  
  


*.*

  
  


“What’s the Kirk Curse?” Uhura asks out of the blue, tilting her head back so she can look Jim in the eyes.

 

“What?” Jim blinks and focuses, frowning slightly at the odd angle.

 

“What’s the Kirk Curse?”

 

“Um.... where’d ya here that?”

 

“You’re mom mentioned it, back at the hall.”

 

Jim rolls his eyes.

 

“Kirk boys are always born on important days,” he says. “To like, the family.”

 

“What qualifies as an ‘important day’?” Stonn inquires, words muffled from where his face is pressed into T’Pring’s lap. He gets talkative when he gets drunk.

 

The blond shrugs.

 

“My Dad was born on the day of his grandmother’s funeral,” he offers. “Mom went into labor with Sam during the unveiling of the Kelvin. Me.”

 

“You’re Mom’s water broke at— shit, seriously?”

 

“No joke.” Jim smiles slightly. “She stood there for half an hour at parade rest until Dad noticed something was wrong. He went to go check on her and started panicking when she explained. Then the people around them started panicking. Then Medical was called. Right, Mom?”

 

His mother looks up from her conversation with the Doctor.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Sam decided he wanted to be born when you were at the Kelvin thing.”

 

Winona grins.

 

“Oh, yeah. He did.” She sighs contentedly. “George was screaming bloody murder when he realized what was happening.”

 

“That was  _ you _ ?” Amanda’s head whips around to stare. “ _ You _ were the pregnant lady?”

 

“I— you were there?”

 

“It was Sarek and I’s first public appearance after our bonding,” Amanda says, sitting up. “You were my  _ hero _ .”

 

“What? Why?”

 

“You stood there for God knows how long having  _ contractions _ and just… walked to the hospital? You didn’t let them put you on a stretcher, I remember.”

 

“Fuck, no. I was giving birth, not  _ injured _ .”

 

“It’s called wounded, Mom,” Jim says. “Injured’s when you fall out of a tree or something.”

 

“I’m never letting you watch  _ Band of Brothers _ again,” she says, not looking up.

 

“What is  _ Band of Brothers _ ?” T’Pring inquires. “Another film?”

 

“A series, actually, about the biggest badasses of World War II— wait a second, I haven’t made you watch…” He trails off as she shakes her head. “Sybok, what about you? Has Sam made you watch it?”

 

“I don’t believe so, no.”

 

Jim throws his hands in the air.

 

“That is a fucking crime.  _ B.O.B. _ ’s a fantastic miniseries— here, we’ve got time. Spock, where’s my bag?”

 

“On your chair, James.” Spock is sprawled across two chairs, eyes slightly unfocused as he stares up at the light flickering above his seat. “You brought your holoplayer to our wedding?”

 

“Of course— you never know when you might need it… Here it is!” He brandishes the player triumphantly. “Everybody gather ‘round— Baby Peter’s taking his sweet time, and we need to sober up.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


Six hours of labor and a lot of drugs later, Sam is sleeping off his hangover in the chair by the bed and Aurie is happy and exhausted, clutching a little fleshy thing to her chest that she and her husband decided to call Peter.

 

“Thanks for helping out, Ambassador,” she says when he comes to check on her. “I don’t think this would have gone half as smoothly if you hadn’t been here.”

 

He inclines her head.

 

“Your thanks is unnecessary,” Sarek says. “But recognized. How is your son?”

 

“A perfectly healthy baby,” she says, and she can’t help the little smile on her face. “Wanna hold him?”

 

Sarek stares and for a moment, she thinks he’ll say no, but then he steps up beside the bed and holds out his hands.

 

Peter’s tiny in Sarek’s grip, but the Vulcan knows how to hold a baby, and he’s probably more coordinated than Aurie ever will be. He rocks Peter gently, peering at his strange, crinkled face.

 

“I have not held a child in twenty-two years,” Sarek remarks. “I forgot how… humbling it was.”

 

Aurie grins.

 

“Yeah. It’s pretty weird.”

 

Sarek hands Peter back, and he’s so damn gentle, she can’t help but think… but no. She barely knows the guy. But he’s a Vulcan, and Jim knows him— hell, Jim married his kid. And invited him to the wedding. Jim wouldn’t have invited him if he was a shitty person.

 

Sam hasn’t thought this far ahead, but Aurie has, and while she’d played with the idea of Sybok, maybe, or even Jim, she realizes neither are good options for this.

 

“Hey, wanna be a godparent?”

 

Sarek stares.

 

“Pardon me?”

 

“A godparent. Godfather, specifically. To this little guy.” Aurie fiddles with the edge of Peter’s blanket. “We haven’t picked one yet, and honestly, out of everyone who I’m apparently now related to, you seem the least insane.”

 

Sarek doesn’t answer, so she presses on.

 

“Listen, the point of a godparent is to help guide the kid when his parents can’t help. Considering the mess that is probably passed out in the waiting room, I’m thinking logic is the way to go on this.”

 

Sarek arches an eyebrow.

 

“You are surprisingly rational, considering you have just birthed a child,” Sarek says. “I accept this title.”

 

“Oh, thank God.”

 

“Now, while you are correct that they have all fallen asleep, it is probably best if you rest now. Jim in particular will be a terror when he wakes.”

 

“Yeah, I get the feeling you’re right. Thank you.”

 

“As I said before, thanks it not necessary.” Sarek pauses. “Rest well, Aurelian. Peter.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


It’s January first, and Jim has gotten a package in the mail. It’s small and square and hard on the edges, and it’s addressed to him in swirly, beautiful handwriting.

 

He tears it nearly in half. A small note flutters out.

  
  


_ Amanda quite enjoys keeping hard copies of her favorite holos around the house. I believe you might entertain a similar habit. _

 

_ This holo was taken on December nineteenth, on Peter’s birthday, by a helpful nurse. I am uncertain if you recall this particular photograph due to your intoxication, but I thought you might enjoy it anyway. _

 

_ Perhaps our families are even better suited than I originally believed. _

 

_ -Sarek _

  
  


Jim sets down the note and picks up the package, carefully wrapped so it doesn’t break en route. He pulls away the foam tissue and— oh. Oh. Well, that’s just sweet.

 

The photograph— and it’s an honest to God photograph, printed out and framed and everything— is of their wedding, except it isn’t, because they’re all piled around Aurie’s hospital bed, smiling (or staring stoically, in the case of the Vulcans) at the camera as she cradles baby Peter. It’s a great photo, even if it’s sort of obvious that they’re all varying degrees of drunk or sober.

 

Everybody’s happy. Even Stonn, who might actually be smirking just a little bit.

  
Best. Present. Ever.


	8. Chapter 8

“They’re sending you to an ice planet? Seriously?”

 

Scotty nods somberly, eyes slightly glassy thanks to more than a little whisky.

 

“The Admiral was  _ particularly _ attached to that dog,” Scotty says. “If it had worked, it would’ve been something— and I was sure it would work, you know. I mean, Chekov said some of the math didn’t add up, but it seemed good enough to try, ya know? And—”

 

“Wait, who’s Chekov?”

 

“Who’s— ya don’t know who Chekov is?” Scotty shakes his head. “Jim, he’s only the youngest Human to ever be accepted to the Academy.”

 

“Well, that’s just not true.”

 

Scotty flaps a hand.

 

“Ya don’t count and ya bloody know it. The kid started attendin’— properly— at fifteen.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Aye. He’s slated to graduate with yer year, I think. If it weren’t for you, he’d make valedictorian.”

 

Jim snorts.

 

“Yeah, that’s in the bag, for me. Pike’s shitting himself over it.”

 

Scotty sighs.

 

“I probably won’t be here to see it,” he says mournfully. “Send me a holo, will you?”

 

“I’ll tell Archer you send your regards, right?”

 

“No, don’t do that!”

 

The panic in Scotty’s voice makes Jim laugh.

 

“Just a thought. I won’t do it, Scotty, I promise— ow, fuck! Stop hitting your Captain!”

 

Scotty stops.

 

“If they leave me on Delta Vega you probably won’t be my Captain, ya know,” he says, somber. “You’ll need another Chief Engineer.”

 

“I’ve got a way with authority, Scotty. Don’t worry.”

 

Scotty snorts.

 

“Right. You’ve got a way with pissing authority off, is what you’ve got.”

 

“I always get my way in the end.”

 

Scotty rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue, because it’s mostly true.

 

“So, what’re ya thinkin’?”

 

“About what?”

 

“About Chekov, of course.” He leans forward. “Are ya thinkin’ he might work? For your bridge.”

 

Jim hums.

 

“You think he might be good for it?”

 

“The lad’s a genius at mathematics— mayhap even better than you.”

 

Well now, that seems like a challenge.

 

“I’ll get back to you on that, Mr. Scott.” Jim slaps him on the back. “Cheer up. I’ll get you off Delta Vega if I’ve got to start my own Fleet, got it?”

 

“I… aye, sir.”

 

“Good.” Jim pulls out his PADD. “Now, what’s this kid’s full name? I want a look at his academics before anything else.”

  
  


*.*

 

“Jim?”

 

“Yeah, Bones?”

 

“What in God’s name are you doing?”

 

“Hacking student records. They’ve updated the security systems since I did it last time.”

 

Leonard’s face goes slightly red. A vein in his temple throbs dangerously.

 

“You’ve— you could get kicked out for pulling shit like that!”

 

“Well, that’s why I don’t get caught.” Jim sounds completely unconcerned, which is equal parts worrying and goddamn infuriating.

 

“Jim, you’re going to get expelled, and  _ then _ what am I supposed to do?”

 

“Why would Jim be expelled, Doctor?”

 

Bones runs a frustrated hand through his hair.

 

“Jim’s hacking into Academy records.  _ Again _ , apparently.”

 

Spock blinks.

 

“Jim,” he starts.

 

“Yeah, Spock?”

 

“Why are you attempting to hack Academy records?”

 

“I’m not attempting anything. I’m already in. Precision in language, Mr. Spock.” Jim smiles around the lip of his coffee mug.

 

Spock arches an eyebrow at just the angle that Leonard’s learned to recognize as an eyeroll.

 

“Why are you interested in Academy records, Jim?”

 

“Because research.”

 

“For what?”

 

“My bridge crew.” Jim’s typing quickens. “I need a navigator, and apparently Scotty’s been scouting out this kid for me, and I want to know more about him before I talk to him.”

 

“... Logical,” Spock agrees after a moment. “However, it should be noted that I disagree with your method of research.”

 

“It is noted, Mr. Spock.”

 

“... That’s it?” Bones asks. “You— not even a slap on the wrist.”

 

“A slap on the wrist will simply cause Jim to ask for greater abuse of a different part of his anatomy,” Spock says. “He will not get caught. Academy firewalls are quite inefficient, and easily circumvented.”

 

“Also, I’m a badass when it comes to a computer. These things haven’t been updated since I learned to code, for fuck’s sake.”

 

“Precision of language, Mr. Kirk,” Spock scolds lightly before returning his focus to Bones. “He is not in any danger of expulsion. I guarantee that.”

 

Leonard stares, then sighs, rubbing at his face tiredly.

 

“Who the hell are you even looking for, Jim?”

 

“Pavel Chekov. He’s like, twelve.”

 

“Fifteen,” Spock corrects. “Sixteen on the twelfth. I have helped him with several extracurricular projects, when time allowed.”

 

“Oh? How do you know him?”

 

“I have taught him.”

 

“Cool. What do you think of him?”

 

Spock thinks about it.

 

“He is highly intelligent, though slightly immature, likely due to his age,” he admits. “He is eager, and willing to learn, and has an unorthodox approach to most obstacles. He has a unique way of problem solving, and will likely prove to be an efficient member of Starfleet once he comes of age and gains experience.”

 

“... He scored a ninety-two on his last test with you?”

 

“Affirmative.”

 

Jim sets down the PADD.

 

“That settles it,” he says, pushing himself to his feet. “I’m gonna go find this kid. Set an extra place for dinner, will ya, Bones?”

 

“It’s not my day to cook,” Leonard says moodily, flopping down onto the couch. “Sulu’s today.”

 

“Sulu’s meeting Ben’s parents today, he’s not gonna be home. Anyway, I want chicken-fried steak. You make the best steak.” Jim bats his eyelashes as he toes on his shoes. “Please?”

 

“... Fine.”

 

“Great! And Spock, could you water Sulu’s project? The basement’s getting a little dry for the Venus Flytraps.”

 

“Very well, Jim.”

 

“Thanks, Spock. Bones. See you guys later!” He disappears in a flurry of blond hair and slamming doors.

 

“He’s got you whipped, Mr. Spock,” Bones mutters from his place on the couch.

 

The Vulcan tilts his head.

 

“I might say the same of you, Doctor.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


“Mr. Chekov, how are you?”

 

Two large hands clamp around Pavel’s shoulders startling him out of his Advanced Astrophysics homework. A large, blond head comes into view as the stranger slides into the seat beside him.

 

“I am well,” he says automatically, then pauses. “Excuse me, sir, but do I know you?”

 

“Jim Kirk,” the stranger says, sticking out a hand. “I heard you were a wiz kid.”

 

Chekov flushes.

 

“I— I suppose,” he says carefully. “Can I help you with something?”

 

“Nothing, really. I just wanted to introduce myself. You seem like a nice kid. Spock likes you, after all.” Jim grins. “You look like the type to get wrapped up in your work. Are you hungry?”

 

Chekov opens his mouth to say no, but then his stomach gurgles, embarrassingly loud in the otherwise silent library.

 

“I… could use something to eat, I suppose.”

 

“Great! I’ve got dinner at home, if you want to come.”

 

“I—”

 

“Bones is a great cook, too. I convinced him to make the good stuff— it’s a big day.”

 

“How so, Mr. Kirk?”

 

“Well, I’ve found my navigator!”

 

“You are looking for a navigator? But you are still a student.”

 

“Yeah, but I’m getting the Enterprise when I graduate. I decided like, a year ago.” Jim’s smile is bright. “So I figured I’d get a head start and start putting together my crew, you know? And you’re it.”

 

Chekov frowns.

 

“I’m it, sir?”

 

“Yeah! For navigation on my bridge crew.” Jim stands. “Come on— I’ll introduce you to everybody at dinner.”

 

“I— I have not agreed to anything, sir.”

 

“Not yet. But you will, I’m sure, once you meet everyone. They’re a great bunch, I promise— all as crazy smart as you, in their own ways. Except for Spock. He’s crazy Vulcan smart.”

 

Chekov doesn’t know how, but somewhere between this statement and sharing a sneaky shot with Jim Kirk after dinner, his homework is finished and he has five new contacts in his phone. Also a new physician.

  
He doesn’t mind.

**Author's Note:**

> The playlist for this fic can be found [here.](https://8tracks.com/starhobbit/the-young-ones#smart_id=dj:16203706&play=1)
> 
> Follow [not-freyja](https://not-freyja.tumblr.com) and [straight-outta-hobbiton](https://straight-outta-hobbiton.tumblr.com) on Tumblr.


End file.
